


ready to hold on (willing to fall)

by whetherwoman



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Engaged sex, Episode Tag, Episode: s05e13 The Hike, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 18:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20916398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whetherwoman/pseuds/whetherwoman
Summary: "David," Patrick panted, clutching at David’s shoulders, "David, you—you carried me up a mountain."





	ready to hold on (willing to fall)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leupagus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leupagus/gifts).

> title from a Carsie Blanton song cause I have a brand so I might as well stick to it

They were kissing as soon as the door shut behind them. 

To be fair they’d been kissing a lot before then too—they’d kissed a lot up on the mountain, sitting on the picnic blanket, David laughing and crying at the same time while Patrick carefully slid his silver rings off and the gold ones on. Patrick had needed to wipe away some stray tears too, the rush of joy overwhelming, almost shocking. He’d kissed each of David’s fingers, and his laughing mouth, and the sweet spot on the side of his neck that he’d kissed so many times before, except now they were engaged and nothing was different and everything was different.

They’d eaten cheese, and drank champagne out of plastic cups that David barely even complained about, and Patrick had forgotten until they were halfway down the mountain that his foot had a big hole in it. David had offered to carry him again, but he’d turned it down. He was engaged to David and everything felt fine.

He’d held David’s hand as often as he could while driving home, but everything stayed pretty PG. He wasn’t even thinking particularly hard about sex except in the generalized way he was always thinking about sex with David. Holding hands and sneaking glances at the smile David couldn’t seem to get off his face was—perfect. It was perfect.

Except then the apartment door closed behind them and David’s mouth was on his, hard and hot and demanding, and fuck he wanted to have sex, right the fuck now.

David was already tugging on Patrick's hoodie, and Patrick toed off his shoes, and then it was a fumbling mad rush to strip themselves and each other without stopping kissing, because he couldn’t, he couldn’t tear his mouth away from David. Their clothes came off, somehow, and then David’s naked skin was against him, fuck, so much skin, and David was insistently nudging him away from the pile of clothes on the floor towards the bed. 

"Your clothes—" Patrick objected, because at this point he knew very well what lying in a crumpled heap on the floor would do to designer fashion, thank you very much.

"Leave them," David said, his voice low and hoarse. Patrick almost pulled back in surprise, because what? But David yanked him back in, hard, and he forgot everything except the way his cock rubbed so perfectly against the hollow of David’s hip.

David was alternately pulling and pushing at him, and it was making Patrick wild, David’s needy hands and gasps and tongue, David’s dark head bending to lick his neck and then bite, hard. Patrick yelped and jerked into him, felt his back hit the wall, fuck, where was the goddamn bed? 

He pushed hard at David’s shoulders and managed to turn them around, slam David into the wall so he could keep him there, slide his thigh between David’s legs until David was thrusting against him, pinch his nipple and bite at his lips and take one hand off of him to fumble for the lube on top of the dresser next to them.

"Oh, good idea," David breathed, half-laughing, and snatched it out of Patrick’s hand. He heard the cap fall on the floor somewhere and didn’t care. David’s clever fingers were already at his hole, slippery and urgent.

"Fuck," Patrick bit out, and hitched one leg up to give David better access, his knee hitting the wall with a thud. 

"Okay, no more injuries," David gasped, and spun them around again, pressing Patrick against the wall and hoisting Patrick’s leg up over David’s hip.

Patrick felt like the air had turned to molasses. David wasn’t usually this physically assertive in bed, to the point where Patrick almost forgot that David had a couple inches on him, and some real muscle hiding under the soft sweaters. But now—oh fuck, could he actually—

"David," Patrick panted, clutching at David’s shoulders, "David, you—you carried me up a mountain."

"Yeah," David breathed and kissed him again, his tongue thrusting into Patrick’s mouth as his fingers found Patrick’s hole again. Patrick heard himself moan, high and wild, but he couldn’t—now that he’d thought of it, he wanted—he _wanted_—

"Can you—what if I—" he tried to say, garbled, unable to focus on anything except pushing back against David’s fingers, forward against his hard cock. But David got it, somehow, he felt David get it because David froze.

"I don’t know if I—" David said, then, "Fuck—" and got his big hands under Patrick’s ass and _lifted_.

They lurched sideways, and hey, that was the closet, because Patrick felt the curtain give behind him as David stumbled forward until Patrick’s back thunked against the wall, barely cushioned by sweaters and slacks crumpling behind him. Patrick had a vague idea that wasn’t great, but he couldn’t think, because David’s cock was under him, between his cheeks, pressing up against—

"Fuck," David said vehemently, and yanked Patrick’s thighs up higher until the tip of his cock was right where Patrick needed it, fuck, fuck, Patrick needed it _right the fuck now_, and David—

"_Fuck_," Patrick gasped, and wrapped his legs around David’s hips. It burned a little, they never fucked with this little prep, it burned so fucking good, David was _holding him up_, fuck that was so goddamn hot Patrick couldn’t breathe. He scrabbled to the sides until he found the walls, trying to brace himself, knocking things off hangers to the floor, except wait—

"David, your clothes," Patrick gasped. Fuck, David felt so _big_ inside him. "Your sweaters—"

"_Fuck_ the sweaters," David growled, and Patrick couldn’t help the sound that came out of his mouth as David bottomed out inside him. 

"That’s the hottest—thing I’ve ever—heard you say," he managed to gasp out, as David started to fuck up into him.

"How about—" David gasped back, his fingertips digging into Patrick’s thighs. "How about—fiancé—"

And oh god—David was right, _that_ was the fucking hottest—Patrick couldn’t find words anymore, flailed around until he was able to brace himself against the walls of the closet and push back against David, get some leverage to fuck himself on David’s cock, give his whole weight to David, trusting David with—with everything he had, everything, everything—

"Patrick—Patrick—" David was saying into his neck, thrust up hard one more time and bit down on Patrick’s shoulder, fuck, Patrick could feel his cock twitching so deep—he managed to get one hand between them, on his cock, and that was it, he was coming against David’s stomach, crying out wordlessly until David’s knees collapsed and they both hit the bottom of the closet.

"Fuck," Patrick said, and started laughing breathlessly. David hummed agreement against his neck, licked him once, sending an aftershock of shivers along Patrick’s spine. "Fuck, David, we’re on top of your _sweaters_."

They were, and Patrick could feel David’s come starting to leak out of his ass as David softened, and Patrick’s hand and both their stomachs were covered too. They were a mess. Patrick loved it.

"Worth it," David mumbled into his neck, and Patrick couldn’t stop laughing. He was so happy. God, he was so happy.


End file.
